


glass & patron

by uselessphillie



Series: hold that pose (for me) [2]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M, Smut, Songfic, postlude, so much prose wow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-16 20:07:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16501907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uselessphillie/pseuds/uselessphillie
Summary: Dan stands all day under hot lights and the blistering gazes of men behind their cameras, but it’s nothing like this. Here he is ethereal, worshipped, given to as well as taken from.(a postlude to all the light we cannot see)





	glass & patron

**Author's Note:**

> recommended listening: [glass & patron](https://open.spotify.com/track/65fjGurFHOjy34CffnGzlA?si=v_XG4keQQm-OI7uV61xeIA) by fka twigs. if i've injected just enough ~magic~ into this, the read time of this fic should be roughly equivalent to the length of the song.
> 
> i'd also recommend reading the first, longer work in this 'verse first, but this can also be read as a standalone.

Phil talks endlessly about the light, but Dan knows that what he really covets are the shadows.

It’s a flirtation with obsession, the way Phil works with a camera in his hands. An obsession with details, with the shape of the sun against gently tanned skin, with the pieces of delicate lavender silk he ties around Dan’s hands. He kisses Dan’s wrists where he’s bound them together above his head, long pale body on gorgeous display for Dan to look at but not to touch, not today.

Dan arches up anyway, barely able to graze Phil’s chest with his lips. He presses a feather-light kiss directly over his heart just because he can, because he wants to, because he knows it drives Phil crazy to have him like this.

Phil sits back on Dan’s thighs, admiring his work. He drags the long ends of the ribbons with him, fanning them out across Dan’s skin. It tickles and makes him squirm, makes him ache for Phil to touch him for real. Phil’s obsession also comes with an abundance of patience, a wealth of self-control that Dan just doesn’t have. But Dan’s found that he can get off on being forced to wait, on the toe-curling pleasure of being denied something he’s desperate for.

He tracks the movement of Phil’s hands as he reaches behind himself for his camera, can feel the flush spreading down his chest at the anticipation of it. He stands all day under hot lights and the blistering gazes of men behind their equipment, but it’s nothing like this. Here he is ethereal, worshipped, given to as well as taken from. Here Phil says  _ look into the light for me, darling _ and so Dan does, turns his head towards the setting sun and digs his heels into the ivory sheets. The click of the shutter is drowned out by the sound of his own pulse, loud and fast with the adrenaline of doing this.

He closes his eyes and makes his body as long as he can, stretching out cat-like in the fading heat of the day. Phil makes some sort of strained noise as the shutter clicks again; then, there’s the heavy thump of the camera falling to the mattress. Dan startles as Phil’s hand lands on his shin, every nerve ending hot-wired to his touch. Up, up, up, until Phil’s hand anchors itself against his ribcage and he can feel the heat of their bodies lingering in the empty space between them. 

When he opens his eyes, Phil is right there, pupils blown wide and looking at him with something between lust and absolute adoration. Dan pulls more harshly against the silk ties, itching with the desire to close the distance. “Please, Phil,” he chokes out. “Wanna touch you.”

Phil shakes his head, leaning down to kiss him just once, too quickly, not nearly enough. “Gonna mark you all up, make you so pretty for me, yeah? Always so pretty for me.” He presses his mouth to Dan’s jaw, dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin there and Dan is so done for, feels alight and standing on the precipice without ever even having his cock touched. He loses track of the words falling from his lips as Phil makes his way across his collarbones and down his chest, down to the jut of his hipbone and the smooth skin of his thighs. Phil’s warm breaths ghost over his cock and Dan twitches up into nothing, into the elegant torture of denial. 

“Shhh, baby, almost done,” Phil says, kissing over one of the blossoming marks and reaching for his camera again. He stays close to Dan’s body, the cool material of the camera grazing against his overheated skin. “Look at me, Daniel,” he says.

Dan looks directly into the lens and knows instantly that that will be the shot, the one that they’ll keep at the top of their little collection of them, the one that Phil will take with him when he goes back to France for summer’s end. The sun lingers just above the city skyline, the room cast half into shadow now, and Dan can see the way Phil’s patience begins to wear thin.

“Will you fuck me like this?” Dan requests, just to watch Phil toss his camera into the abyss of the sheets like he doesn’t care at all where it lands.

Finally, finally, Phil surges forward and kisses him soundly, indulges him with roaming hands and the familiar weight of his body. Dan gasps into the kiss, pulling desperately on his restraints, saying  _ please, please, please  _ into the milliseconds where Phil’s mouth leaves his. Phil’s in the business of denial but he always gives it up in the end, can never bear to succumb without Dan’s nails digging crescents into his back, without being as intertwined as physically possible. He reaches up and pulls on the silk until the knots come undone, the loose ends falling into Dan’s curls and sticking between their bodies. Dan sinks his freed hands into Phil’s hair, using the leverage to pull him even closer. He fits one between them to stroke Phil off once, twice, the finale to an endless waiting game.

Phil pushes into him with a deep groan, laving his tongue over the bruises he left on Dan’s neck as a minute distraction. There’s no need for time, there’s nothing except the slick push-pull and the sound of their bodies coming together. The sun abandons them to the darkness but what need do they have for light, when the shape of each other is the most familiar one they know?

They tilt over the edge and into oblivion together, he forgets where his body ends and Phil’s begins, it doesn’t matter. Phil could take a thousand photos and never be able to recreate it, never capture the deep warmth that settles in his bones as they lay breathing. Phil kisses the fading red on his wrists, laughing and saying  _ I love you, you’re everything to me, where have you been all my life? _

_ I’m here now. I’ll be here forever, if you want me. _

(How to photograph a laugh weaved into skin, a smile folded into the jagged crevices of someone’s heart?)

_ Yes, darling. I always want you.      _

**Author's Note:**

> if you don't think this song is on dan's sex playlist then you can absolutely fight me irl about it !
> 
> reblog this fic on tumblr [here](https://uselessphillie.tumblr.com/post/179704281555/fic-glass-patron) xx


End file.
